


little paper memories

by laughingd0g



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Partners, Baking, Crafts, Domestic Fluff, Ex-Auror Draco Malfoy, Ex-Auror Harry Potter, Fluff, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Holiday Memories, M/M, New holiday traditions, Pensieves (Harry Potter), Surprise Gifts, creative use of magic/charms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:48:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28778547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laughingd0g/pseuds/laughingd0g
Summary: All of these years later, Harry still liked working with Draco: on a case, in the field, at home, on secret Christmas heirlooms.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 11
Kudos: 101
Collections: H/D Mistletoe Exchange 2020





	little paper memories

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jackvbriefs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackvbriefs/gifts).



> Jack, it's a pleasure to have met you -- lovely person that you are. I hope you enjoy this little bit of fluff. 
> 
> Thank you to my alpha and beta readers: B, L, and R. Your support means so much to me.

Harry looked around the kitchen. It was a mess. Sugar and flour and icing everywhere—there was even a blue streak of it caking the chandelier. Next to him, Draco’s face reflected his own dismay. 

Harry chuckled and slung an arm around Draco’s shoulders, pulled him in for a kiss. There was a moment of resistance—bony shoulders stiffening—and then Draco relaxed against him.

“Let’s get it tomorrow,” Harry murmured against Draco’s temple. He could sense Draco’s disapproving gaze on the mess, but could also feel the exhaustion in his wiry frame. “It’ll keep till morning.”

“That’s exactly my worry,” Draco muttered, so softly that Harry wouldn’t have heard it if their faces hadn’t been pressed together.

Harry squeezed Draco’s shoulder and huffed against his cheek. “I’ll drag myself up before sunrise and clean it all myself so you need not lay your pure gaze upon it, if it would please Your Highness.”

Draco scoffed. He pushed Harry away. “Where’s Teddy?”

“Passed out on the sofa.”

“With icing all over his face, I gather.”

“Really. You should have gone into the Aurors.”

Draco scowled, ran a hand through a shallow pile of flour, and smeared it over Harry’s face. Harry squawked. Laughed.

It was good that they could joke about it now. There had been a number of rocky years, when—after realizing that their feelings for each other went deeper than the bond forged between Auror partners—they had navigated choppy waters. The DMLE had a strict policy against amorous entanglements between law enforcement partners. So, for a time, they’d tried splitting and working with other partners, but it had been difficult—for Harry, especially—to focus on work, particularly when either of them came into the office with fresh wounds or curse damage. Eventually, after months of strained interactions, arguments, and (for Harry) disciplinary meetings, they both decided to step down from the Aurors. 

The first several months following their resignation were the most difficult, rife with tension and punctuated by frequent fights; to Harry, it felt like their relationship might fracture. They’d both enjoyed being Aurors. They’d enjoyed being partners. They didn’t blame each other for having to leave the department—at least, Harry knew rationally that this was the case—but they hardly knew what to _do_ with each other when they didn’t have to report to the office together in the morning, Harry with hot coffee and Draco with fresh pastries, and talk about their latest cases and office gossip. 

It took them months to learn a new rhythm with each other while also figuring out what to do with their careers. For sure, they didn’t _need_ to work. Even after paying reparations, Draco still had enough in the bank to live comfortably, as did Harry. But they’d realized that some of the tension between them was the need to _do_ something—and Harry was adamant that, whatever it was, they needed to do it together. After all, there was no point in quitting the Aurors, where they had got involved in the first place because they clicked so well as working partners, only to spend no time with each other. 

After some thinking, they’d decided to open a private consulting firm. Draco knew a lot about potions and dark magic and artifacts, and Harry was well versed in curses, hexes, and defensive magic, so between the two of them, they had a breadth of knowledge and experience. Following that decision, they endured several more chaotic months as they set up and learned to run a fledgling business. With Harry’s celebrity status, they hardly needed to promote themselves. In fact, they’d quickly drowned under a deluge of ludicrous requests and spent days sifting out the cases actually worth their time.

The initial madness settled down, however—and so did they. In a few months, they fell into a comfortable working partnership again, this time without Robards’ shadow hanging over them. They were able to choose their own cases, focus on the aspects of the job that they preferred, streamline paperwork and finish it at their own leisure, and—perhaps best of all—stay out of the path of stray curses and hexes. 

For the last few years, business had been working out quite well for them. Best of all, they could make their own schedule—which meant taking three weeks around Christmas and the New Year off. It was nice to spend time with friends and family—and each other—as they pleased. These last few days, they’d had Teddy over, and, for the most part, it’d been a delight—if a little messy.

Draco headed towards the door of the kitchen.

“Have to see for yourself?” Harry laughed. 

“Not that I don’t trust your razor observations, but some things must be witnessed firsthand.”

In the sitting room, Teddy was still passed out on the sofa as Harry had left him. He had green and blue smudges of icing on his cheeks, and his hair had turned matching streaks of color.

Draco regarded Teddy with a cool expression, though Harry knew it hid great fondness. “Just as you said. But you didn’t mention the _hair_.” He shot Harry an aggrieved look.

“It’s something else, isn’t it? Shall I put a dollop of red on his nose, just to see what happens?”

“You will do no such thing!” Draco hissed, but his eyes were bright. 

Harry grinned.

Rolling his eyes, Draco said, “Come on, then. While our memories are still fresh.”

They put Teddy to bed, using a combination of charms to ease the eight-year-old’s journey from the sofa to his bedroom upstairs. Then they set a silent alarm on the boy (in case he woke) before creeping into Draco’s lab. It was the one room in the house that Teddy knew was completely off-limits, and so it had become their base of secret Christmas operations. 

Draco had cleared off one of the work tables. A shield charm glistened like a soap bubble around it, protecting the space from stray fumes and particles, even though he wouldn’t be using the lab much until the new year. In place of the usual mess of equipment, glass jars, and parchment, the table was scattered with spools of ribbon, bits of colored paper and gold foil, and fiddly little sequins. And under a disillusionment charm—in the _very_ off chance that Teddy decided it was a great idea to sneak into Draco’s lab at Christmas time—was a book. It was slightly lumpy, and it creaked whenever it was opened because it was hand-and-magic-crafted and neither of them had ever made anything remotely like this before.

Harry gave Draco the honor of opening the book this time. He loved to watch the way Draco’s face softened, loved the look of wonder and pride as Draco flipped through the pages they’d already created: 23 of them so far, one for each day of December that had passed.

“Let’s see yesterday’s,” Harry said.

Pursing his lips in an annoyed moue, Draco said, “We just made that one.” But he was already turning to the page. It fell open, and for a moment, it looked like a mishmash of colors and shapes, not quite coherent. Then Draco ran a finger over the bottom of the page, and a number of paper cutouts sprang to life. 

Harry’s heart lifted as a small replica of Draco soared over a tiny Teddy and Harry, dodging a sphere of compressed cotton meant to look like a charmed snowball-cum-bludger. The first time Harry saw one of their creations after completing it was always a revelation for him. No longer exhausted from crafting it or frustrated by wrestling with wonky spellwork, he could see it with fresh eyes, the way it would (hopefully) appear to Teddy. In this case: as an enchanting paper model of their afternoon spent playing snow-quidditch, with a flash of gold foil criss-crossing the scene to represent the snitch.

Draco was the one who’d thought of making a gift for Teddy that held memories Teddy could relive and enjoy for the rest of his life and even pass on to his own children, if he had any. Harry suspected Draco had got the idea from a conversation they’d had late one night about Harry’s lack of pleasant Christmas memories from early childhood. They’d both been a little drunk at the time, and Harry had waxed poetic about how he wanted Teddy to have something nicer to look back on. A few days later, as they worked on their Christmas gift list—Draco was always very organized about these things—Draco suggested making some kind of memory record for Teddy.

Making the book, however, had been Harry’s suggestion. He remembered the popup books that Dudley had got when they were kids. Of course, the books had never lasted for more than a day or two under Dudley’s care, after which he cast them aside. This meant Harry had never been able to play with one that wasn’t torn, but he’d been enchanted by them, all the same.

The problem was that neither of them had any idea how to make a popup book, magical or muggle. They enlisted Luna’s help and soon had several prototypes. Those helped, though making the actual book had still been a learning curve; the quality from the beginning to the end of the book differed noticeably. Thankfully, Harry doubted Teddy would care—or even notice. He had an eight-year-old’s delight for all things fun and colorful and enchanted. 

Most importantly, Harry and Draco had had fun working on it. All of these years later, Harry still liked working with Draco: on a case, in the field, at home, on secret Christmas heirlooms. He especially liked witnessing Draco in his element, working on potions or on magical artifacts, like this one. Draco made a certain face. He was making it now: lips pursed and eyes narrowed as he focused on the 24th, blank, page.

 _Mine_ , Harry thought. This time, he resisted the urge to kiss Draco. That was one thing about being partners with him—knowing his moods, his boundaries. When to pull him close, when to give him space. 

“Are you quite done?” Draco murmured, without looking up from the page. 

“Huh? I’m the one waiting for you.”

Draco smoothed his hand over the page. “You’re staring. Don’t think I can’t see you.” He looked up, expression tender, sardonic. “If you’re done drinking in the sight of me, fetch the projector.”

Harry sniffed, but couldn’t suppress a fond smile. He opened the locked cabinet and pulled out the little altered pensieve, a one-of-a-kind artifact made by Draco to project memories into the air. Their work required them to view memories sometimes, and Draco was not a fan of the usual method of splashing down into them. Neither was Harry, for that matter. The projected memories weren’t as immersive as the usual pensieve variety, but they typically worked for their purposes—including personal projects.

“Mine this time?” Harry said, and sent a silver wisp from his temple into the water. He murmured the incantation and tapped the side of the projector with his wand. The water shivered and threw fractured light into the air. It trembled, blurred, and then sharpened into a scene from earlier that evening: Harry, Draco, Teddy, and a clean, pre-biscuit-baking kitchen. 

Next to Harry, Draco lifted his own wand and cast a charm on the colored paper scattered over the table. Finally, here near the end of December, they had this part down: the dance of paper and ribbons and magic as they translated the projected memory into a physical representation. Excess paper curled away from the sheets floating and spinning above the table. The little figures took form: the tiny Teddy, the Harry and Draco. The kitchen, too: cabinets and sink and table, the rows of ingredients and baking implements. The figures arranged themselves in the paper kitchen, and they were making biscuits. Soon, the neat rows of ingredients and tools became a jumble. Splotches of colored frosting flecked the counter and cabinets. Teddy stole spoonfuls of dough when Draco was turned away. (“No _wonder_ he didn’t have an appetite for more than two of the biscuits when they were done,” Draco muttered. “You didn’t think to stop him?” Harry scoffed: “And ruin a perfectly good memory?”)

They added a charm so that the scents of vanilla and gingerbread wafted from the book. Draco applied an elegant little spell that fixed sound from the memory into the page: Harry and Draco reading out the recipe, Teddy asking questions, the creak and clunk of the oven door. 

At last, they released the magic, and the paper cutouts flattened to the page. Harry dropped his arms. The awareness of his fatigue rolled over him: sore muscles, tight shoulders, the beginnings of a headache.

This time, Harry took the liberty of activating the popup by sliding his finger over the bottom of the page. The cutouts sprang to life, and the scene of them baking Christmas treats played itself out. 

Draco snorted softly. “Makes me nostalgic for the evening, never mind the reality upstairs. The kitchen is a disaster.”

“One day, you’ll be nostalgic for the mess, too.”

“ _Pffft!_ ”

Harry smiled. The little paper Draco pulled one last tray of biscuits from the oven and gave the small Teddy a sideways hug, then the cutouts drifted flat, their voices went silent, and the lab was quiet once more.

“One more to go, “ Draco murmured. 

“One more— _this_ Christmas.”

Draco looked at him, eyes wide. “We are _not_ doing this again.”

Harry gave him an innocent look.

“No.”

Harry pressed a kiss to Draco’s lips.

When they parted, Draco said, “Still no. We made enough memories this year to last a lifetime.”

“But what if I were to make one just for you and me?” Harry said, and pulled Draco tighter against his side. “I can fill it with all of the important things: the first time I gave you a blowjob. That time we apparated drunk into the wrong room at that bed and breakfast.”

“ _Excuse_ me!” Draco said, shoving Harry.

Harry, however, held on tight; he had lots of practice. He pressed his face to the side of Draco’s neck and smiled. “Sex under the invisibility cloak. In the park.” He could feel Draco’s skin heating and Draco’s muscles tensing as if he were preparing to push harder. Harry sniffed. “Careful, now. We’re in your lab. And I’ll remind you that was _your_ idea, you kinky bastard. We had a lot of fun.”

“Until you stuck your _hand_ in my mouth.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. You’re right. There are _much_ better things to stick in there to quiet you.”

Draco turned his face and bit Harry’s nose. 

Harry squawked, laughed, released Draco.

“Don’t be crass. It’s called a silencing charm, and you could have used one,” Draco said, coolly avoiding Harry’s gaze, though there was a flush on his cheeks and neck. He straightened his clothes and hair. Done with that, he waved his wand, placing the book under a disillusionment again. He tucked his wand into his pocket and glanced at Harry, who was still rubbing his nose. He frowned. “Are you all right? I didn’t bite _that_ hard, did I?” 

Harry pulled back his fingers and glanced at them. “No blood.”

“ _Tsk_. Not hard enough, then.” But he took Harry’s hand gently, looked at his fingers, his nose. Kissed the tip of it. 

Harry squeezed Draco’s hand. “Probably not,” he agreed.

Once they closed the lab door behind them, he steered Draco towards the sitting room and firmly _away_ from the kitchen.

“It’s Christmas Eve,” Harry said. 

“It is.”

“We’ll have to be up early tomorrow morning.”

“Most likely.”

“Let’s stay up and drink whiskey.”

Draco let out a bark of laughter. Harry still cherished these moments when he could make Draco laugh—spontaneously, without a care. Draco was still smiling when Harry returned from the corner of the room with two glasses of whiskey and handed him one. 

Sighing, Harry sat. “How do you think Hermione and Ron manage it? Parenting 24/7.”

“Hm.” Draco lowered next to him and took a drink. “I suspect a steady supply of secret calming draughts.”

“I guess. Yeah.” Harry looked at the fire, trying to keep his gaze from straying to the tree. He had a terrible habit of giving himself away, he’d come to realize.

“Harry.”

“What?”

“Calm down.”

“I am calm.”

Draco pressed a hand to Harry’s knee, which Harry had been jiggling without realizing it. 

“Oh.”

A little smile twisted Draco’s lips. “Really. It’ll be fine. Teddy will love it. Drink more. You’ll feel better.”

Harry did drink more. “I’m not nervous about Teddy’s gift.”

“Good,” Draco said, then frowned as Harry’s knee began to bounce again. 

Harry sniffed. “Sorry. But I am nervous about— Teddy’s asleep. May I give you yours now?”

Grey eyes snapped to his, narrowed, and then widened. “No. You _didn’t_.”

“All right.” Harry grinned. “I didn’t. But stay right there.”

He went to the tree and knelt for one of the presents. He felt Draco’s gaze on him the entire way there and back, a warm, prickling weight over his shoulders. That was a comforting constant in Harry’s life: Draco would always watch. 

“I didn’t,” Harry said again, even as he placed the wrapped gift on Draco’s lap. It was rectangular, slim, and vaguely lumpy, having defied Harry’s attempts to keep it as flat as possible. Though, he supposed it added to the charm of the thing.

Draco’s mouth pressed into something that wanted to be a frown and a smile at the same time. It was his constipated face, but this probably wasn’t the best time to tell Draco that. 

“Gifts don’t work unless you open them, generally,” he said, instead.

Draco shot him a sour look. “That’s the point. Maybe I’ll leave this one wrapped, thank you.”

“All right.” He knew Draco didn’t mean it, but there was a flutter of anxiety in his stomach, anyway, because—he’d thought it was cute at the time, but maybe it was stupid, after all. Gifts like these were all right for kids, which Draco wasn’t. But Harry thought—

“Harry?” Draco whispered, and touched a hand to Harry’s cheek. 

“Hm?”

“I’m touched.”

Harry nodded, swallowed. Now he felt silly for making any kind of deal over this. “Just open it, why don’t you?”

Slowly, painstakingly, Draco unfolded the wrapping paper. It was hard to tell if he was doing it extra carefully just to get under Harry’s skin. Harry should have never said anything that first Christmas they spent together, should have never complained about how gingerly Draco peeled back the paper ( _“Planning to reuse that?”_ he’d said) because Draco had never let that go, not in the years that had passed.

His hands were so bony, Harry thought. Knuckles and tendons and long, graceful fingers with nails carefully trimmed. Pearlescent burn scars. A thin silver band with a single rune, the only one Harry knew the name and meaning of: _Ehwaz_. The same rune that was on his own. 

At last, the paper fell away to reveal the book inside.

This one was noticeably cruder than the one for Teddy. Harry had made it earlier in the month, before they’d refined their book-making craft, and he’d made it by himself. It had been a lot more challenging to make one of these on his own, but he thought—at the time—that it was worth the effort. Now he held his breath as Draco stared down at it—simultaneously despairing and proud.

“Harry,” Draco whispered, sounding suspiciously choked. But when he looked up, his eyes were sharp, bright. “Do I need to cast a privacy charm?”

Harry’s chest swelled, and he laughed. “You can, but there’s no need.”

Frowning, eyes narrowed, Draco cast one, anyway. But when he opened the book and ran his finger along the bottom of the first page, it wasn’t a blowjob, or the startled faces of a muggle couple in a posh bed-and-breakfast room, or an old man walking by with his terrier just as Draco began to shout and shatter on the soft grass in the park. The rough little paper cutouts popped up, and they were Draco and Harry, sneering at each other across the Great Hall as owls swooped by overhead, delivering their post. 

Draco snorted, and touched tiny Harry’s head. He flipped the page, and he and Harry were receiving their first Auror assignment together. 

They were sharing their first kiss. 

Stepping into their new house.

Linking hands.

They were stretched out on the sofa, scent of pine wafting from a small green-foil tree—Draco passed out on Harry, Teddy making little-kid snores from the floor. This was the only page with sound. “I love you, you stubborn wanker,” paper-Harry murmured to a sleeping Draco.

“You,” Draco—actual Draco—said.

“Me. You.”

“You’d already made this. You were winding me up.”

“Maybe a bit. You weren’t _hoping_ for park-sex, were you?”

“ _Merlin_ , no.”

“Because I can add pages.”

“No, this is perfect as-is.”

“I’m better at it now. I can add proper sounds to it.”

“ _Harry_.”

“I can add the smell of the grass, too.”

“I will hit you with this.”

“Really, I felt like it was missing some—”

A warm mouth closed over his. He grinned and pulled Draco in. 

“No park-sex,” Draco muttered. “But maybe one more page. Fancy making a memory?”

**Author's Note:**

> ⛄ This work is part of the H/D Mistletoe winter gift exchange. If you enjoyed it, spread the love by leaving the author a kudos and a comment, and consider reblogging the fest tumblr post [here.](https://gwbexchange.tumblr.com/post/640946823198113792/little-paper-memories-author-anonymous) ❄️


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